


More than a game

by AnneValkyria



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: And Theo being...Romantic?, High School, Lacrosse, M/M, Romance, Stiles being Stiles-y, The coach being coach-y, and so on - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 10:21:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22968397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnneValkyria/pseuds/AnneValkyria
Summary: “They burned hot all summer, until Stiles, afraid to risk his heart, put a stop to it. When their teams meet in the first game of the season it's up to Theo to do anything and  everything to show him that his heart is safe.”  OOC All Human
Relationships: Theo Raeken/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 6
Kudos: 74





	More than a game

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I don’t own anything recognizable herein and I have no intention of profiting on my writing.
> 
> **Author's note:** This was written for the Babies at the Boarder Compilation, 2019. It's my first Steo, and (unless you count Clash of the Alphas, which... I don't) it's my first Teen Wolf altogether. I hope you like it
> 
> **Beta:** GeezerWench

The bleachers were packed as the two local schools squared off in the first game of the year. Tension on the field was high. Beacon Hills Cyclones were down by four, and as the home team, the pressure weighed heavily on them. Stiles jumped restlessly from foot to foot, twisting and turning his lacrosse stick in his gloved hands. Sweat trickled down his neck and the back of his shirt. His dad and Lydia watched him from the bleachers, screaming his name.

“Hold that stick, grab that ball, and shoot it up inside their hole,” Lydia hollered, making full use of creative license in her chants. “Drive them hard, push that guard, they’ll never leave our field unscarred.”

“Nice save Talbot, you only missed the ball by a mile. I know you like to suck, and now you blew it. Anyone ever tell you this is not a field you’re supposed to suck in?”

Stiles bit down on his mouthguard and stared down at his muddy cleats, doing everything he could to keep from snickering. When he finally got himself under control and lifted his head, a look of pure concentration tightened his features. The teams were usually pretty evenly matched, but Devenford Prep was killing them out there. Just getting the ball out of the defensive area had proved nearly impossible. And then, with only twenty seconds left on the clock, they drove for the goal again.

Coach Finstock’s shouts were practically drowned out by the deafening cheers and jeers coming from the fans. The goalie, Danny, left the crease, intercepted the shot, and quickly zipped it to Liam, who caught it on a jump, then bolted in Stiles’ direction. He was ready. With legs spread and knees bent, he tightened his grip on the stick.

Hit from behind, Stiles slammed into the ground face first. Having the wind knocked out of him and jarring his teeth, he plowed through the muddy grass, and came to a stop just as the horn sounded, signalling the end of the third period. Needing air, he started to cough and rolled onto his back where he came eye-to-eye with Brett, who grinned widely.

“Sorry Stilinski, I didn’t see you there.”

The crowd was in an uproar. The bleachers creaked ominously as the entire homeside leapt to their feet and roared their indignation.

Scott quickly got in the ref’s face, “You better check your phone asshole, because you _missed a call_!”

Coach Finstock grabbed his megaphone and yelled, “Personal foul! Personal foul!” while waving his free arm to rile everyone up, and join him.

Lydia cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, “That’s not how you land a guy, Brett. Didn’t your Mom teach you anything?”

A thunderous sound of feet pounding against the packed dirt drew close. Stiles tried to climb to his feet, but as soon as he put weight on his right knee, it buckled beneath him. He fell backwards, landing on his ass with a muddy splash.

A low growl rumbled through Theo’s chest, and his otherwise blue eyes had darkened to a steely gray. Spitting out the mouthguard, he tore at the gloves’ velcro straps with his teeth. They hit the grass with a resounding thud. The green helmet soon followed. “What’s your fucking problem?”

Despite all the commotion, the voice came out loud and clear, and a surprised silence spread across the field.

Stiles’ reaction wasn’t as silent. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a string of curses loud enough to reach the people sitting on the bleachers. “Fuuuuck.” He dropped backwards, his maroon and black helmet smacked into the ground with an audible thunk, but he didn’t hear it over the ringing in his ears.

Theo Raeken. It had been a month since the last time Stiles heard his name, and he hadn’t thought about him _at all_ during that time. Not even once. Nope. He couldn’t remember burying his face **in** Theo’s throat and inhaling his spicy scent, or Theo’s little mewling gasps whenever Stiles would nuzzle his nose to the strip of hair below his belly button, kissing downwards.

The little voice inside his head, sounding an awful lot like Lydia, sing-songed, “Do you smell something burning? Could it be because your pants are on fire you big fat liar?”

“Bitch,” Stiles muttered. With narrowed eyes, he peered towards the stands, trying to spot Lydia so he could call her out for cutting him off mid-memory. He figured, if it sounded like Lydia, she probably had something to do with it, but before he made a total fool of himself, some movement to his right caught his attention.

Stalking over to Brett, Theo grabbed his team mate by the front of his jersey and pulled the much taller boy forward and down to his own height until their noses almost touched.

“Answer the fucking question, Talbot,” Theo ground out between clenched teeth.

Stiles watched with an almost morbid fascination how Brett shrugged out of Theo’s grip, and calmly smoothed out his collar and padding. With an expression of complete boredom, he flicked away an invisible piece of lint from his shoulder.

Theo shoved a finger in Brett’s face. From the way his lips moved excessively and emphatically, saliva spraying with each smack of his lips, Stiles guessed he was shouting, but to his ever-lasting disappointment, he couldn’t hear a single word. Swinging his arms in large exaggerated circles , Theo gestured in wide waves, indicating Stiles, himself _and_ Brett in whatever he was saying. All that was missing was steam shooting out of his ears. From where Stiles was sitting, it didn’t seem too far off.

Discreetly, so they wouldn’t know he was snooping, Stiles used his elbows to try and drag himself a little closer, but he gave up after just a few fruitless attempts when all he got was a kink in his neck. Next he tried reading their lips. Theo certainly enunciated clearly enough, but before he figured out if it was ‘Hesters at birth’ or ‘practically nerfed,’ Liam stepped into his line of sight blocking out the lights as well as his view of Theo.

Vertically speaking, Stiles stood a couple of inches taller than Liam, but from his more horizontal position he almost sprained his neck glaring up at the younger boy. “What do you want?” It took everything in him to hold back the question tickling the tip of his tongue. The slimy mud soaked through his shorts. Wincing, he slithered and squirmed to ease the uncomfortable prickling starting on his buttcheeks and crept upwards, towards his back. “My ass is itching,” Stiles mumbled, mostly to himself.

Liam, who had heard every word, gawked at Stiles with furrowed brows and awkwardness written over his childishly rounded face. “Ummm…. Sorry?”

Distracted, Stiles shimmied his hips, burrowing his butt deeper into the muck. “Don’t worry,” he shooed dismissively. “I know you can’t help it.” Liam gave Stiles ‘that’ look. The one most people gave him whenever he did or said something weird. Which, supposedly, happened a lot.

Stiles stared at Liam’s outstretched arm as if he’d never seen one before. Rolling his eyes, Liam sighed and wrapped his gloved fingers around the top of Stiles’ forearm, just below his elbow, and helped him to his feet.

Standing, Stiles gingerly put some weight on his banged up knee to check for any lasting damage. While it still hurt, it didn’t seem to be sprained. His legs wobbled as he did his best to brush off mud and grass clinging to his uniform. When he figured he was clean enough, he took Liam up on his offer of help and leaned on him, limping to where the coach and the rest of the team waited. Every few feet he stole a glance over his shoulder, still wishing he could hear them.

Silently, Theo watched as Liam led Stiles away. To an outside observer, he would’ve seemed unaffected, but anyone who knew him saw the storm brewing in his eyes, and the tick in his jaw revealed his tightly clenched teeth. Envy burned like bile in his throat. He wanted to be the one fawning over Stiles, taking care of him...touching him. Not some other dick. He shook his head to clear the webs of jealousy and tried to focus on what Brett was saying.

“...and this is where you thank me,” Brett ended his explanation and looked at Theo with one eyebrow arched, as if he was waiting for an ‘atta boy’ for whatever bright idea he thought he’d had.

“Thank you?” Theo sputtered incredulously.

Either Brett didn’t hear the pitch at the end of the last word or he just chose to ignore it. “You’re welcome.”

“He could’ve been seriously hurt,” Theo gritted, frustrated, with an edge of exasperation in his voice. “Did you even think about that?”

Thoughtfully, Brett sucked on the corner of his mouth. ”Nope,” he said with a smack of his lips.

Theo bit his lip until he was sure he swallowed back his roar of anger. “Fucking idiot.” He had a lot more to say, but they only had a two minute break and he hoped to catch Stiles before the last period started.

Sinking down onto the bench, Stiles dropped his helmet next to Scott and used a clean part of his jersey to wipe the sweat from his brow. His teammates surrounded him, everyone speaking at the same time, wanting to know how he was feeling. Someone handed him a bottle of water which he gratefully accepted. After downing over half of it in one giant gulp, he poured the rest over his head. His groan of pleasure was embarrassingly loud, the cold liquid felt like heaven against his sweaty, heated skin.

“Stilinski!” Coach Finstock elbowed his way through the throng of players until he reached Stiles. “How bad is it? Can you play?”

Stiles squinted up at his coach, with water dripping down his face. “I’m fine, just banged my knee a little.” He hit his palm against the limb, and ended up cringing, just not from pain. The ache was all but gone. It didn’t take long for the cool water to reach the same temperature as the balmy autumn air, and he shuddered as it dripped down the back of his shirt. “It wasn’t a big deal or anything.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s nice.” Coach Finstock clucked his tongue impatiently. “But...can you...play?”

“Yes, I can play.”

“Good. That’s good. Because I need you, Stilinski.” Stiles chest swelled with pride. “You seem to attract the other team, so if you could distract them… keep them busy and away from my good players, so we can win, that would be great. Hah? Hah?” He punctuated each ‘ha’ with an eager nod, grinning, proud over his genius.

“Thanks, Coach” Stiles deadpanned. “I’m your guy.”

Theo jogged up to them, looking gorgeous in Devenford green. Tentatively, he sank down on the suddenly empty spot right next to Stiles, and with uncharacteristic trepidation, he asked, “Can we talk?”

Stiles hesitated, he wanted nothing more, but wasn’t sure if he was ready for what he had to say. “Can’t it wait? The break is almost over…”

A muscle in Theo’s jaw flexed “No!” He snapped. “I’ve waited, and I’m done waiting.” He paused and closed his eyes, slowly counting to ten, when he opened them again his tone had softened. “Please. I just need a minute.”

Without saying a word, Stiles nodded.

Theo relaxed a little. Getting Stiles to agree to talk to him had been the hard part. “Okay, so first, are you okay?”

Liam handed Stiles a second bottle of water. He poured some in his mouth, washed it around, and spit it out on the grass in front of his cleats. “It doesn’t hurt, not really.”

Theo’s breath whooshed out in relief. “Good. That’s good.”

The clock was ticking, and Theo knew he had to get himself together but it wasn’t as if he actually knew what he was doing. Expressing emotions had never been his strong suit, and before he met Stiles, it hadn’t been a problem. He decided to just be honest. “Your smile.” Theo snickered at Stiles’ confusion. “It was the first thing I noticed about you. The night we met, I saw you and Scott talking and you had this wide smile on you face…” He, himself smiled at the memory. “I wanted to be the one making you smile like that.” Pink warmed his neck, but he pushed through, despite his embarrassment. “I think I loved you since that first night.” His smile fell and a look of horror took its place. “Um, not love..” he stuttered, panicking. “What I meant to say was, I liked you. Because I do, like you. A lot.”

The silence dragged out into forever. Harsh whispers could be heard around them and then with a petulant pout making him look like a child rather than a forty-year-old teacher, Coach Finstock called a timeout. Their last.

When Theo’s fingers closed around Stiles’, goosebumps spread where their skin touched. He’d pretended not to notice. But Theo’s knowing smirk said he wasn’t fooled.

Cocking his head, he looked into Stiles’ eyes. “You think I'd sit through a Star Wars marathon for just anyone?”

Stunned, Stiles stared back at him as if he couldn’t believe his ears. “Thought you liked Star Wars.”

“No,” Theo snorted. “I like you.”

“But…”

“I mean, the teddy bears were sorta cute I guess…”

“You mean the Ewoks,” Stiles corrected.

“And the little ‘huduni’ screaming things were pretty funny…”

“Jawas,” Stiles gritted, more and more irked by the second. “And it’s ‘Utinni’...”

It was time for Theo to interrupt. “Yeah, babe, I don’t really care about that shit, but you do. It’s important to you, and you are important to me.” Theo shrugged as if it was obvious. To him it was. “I would sit through those movies every day if it would make you happy.”

Stiles released a shaky breath, an almost-smile shining in his eyes. “I like that you're confident enough to wear white boxers.”

Theo snickered, and his smirk shot tingles along Stiles spine. “I like that you can say weird shit like that with a straight face.”

“I’d like to know what that means,” Liam mumbled in the background.

“I’d like to finish the game,” Coach Finstock said, and as if on cue the horn sounded, signalling the start of the fourth period.

Theo waved to get the official’s attention and put his hands up in the universal sign for Time Out.

“He can’t do that.” Finstock said with a half laugh. He turned to Scott, “Can he do that?”

“Who’s gonna stop me?” Theo asked. “Mr. Magoo over there can’t tell the difference between a personal foul and a fair tackle, I doubt he can tell if I’m a coach or a player.”

Since there were no more objections, Theo leaned closer until his lips brushed the shell of Stiles’ right ear, his breath hot on Stiles’ skin. “And I want you all the time,” he whispered huskily. “Or whenever works for you. I can be flexible.” He pulled away, and waggled his brows. “I know _you_ are.”

Slack-jawed and blushing, Stiles could feel a smile pulling at the corner of his lips, but instead he grew somber. “Then what about when I call you at three am for the tenth night in a row, just to tell you about the weird dream I had?” He blinked repeatedly, as if tearing up. “What about then?”

“Wellllll,” Theo obnoxiously dragged out the word, the smirk firmly in place. “Not gonna lie, babe. I’d prefer if you called me at three am to tell me about the dirty dream you just had, but as long as I get those once in awhile I don’t mind the weird ones.”

Stiles frowned. “Then what about when I get so lost in something I forget where I am, who I am…?”

“I’ll be here waiting for you when you come out.” Skimming his knuckles over the apple of Stiles’ cheek, Theo asked quietly. “What are you really afraid of?”

“That I’ll be too much, and that you can’t deal…” Stiles stared up towards the sky, “I don’t think I could take it…”

“Look, babe,” Theo scratched at his neck. “We’re only 18, and I’m not gonna go talking forever or anything, but I can’t imagine a time when I won’t want you. I mean _fuck_ , we gotta start talking colleges soon, because where you go, I go.”

A surprised laugh escaped Stiles. He felt another pulling at his mouth, and soon he was grinning like a loon.

“There it is,“ Theo whispered. He caught Stiles’ lips in an intoxicating kiss, both boys clinging to each other, desperate to make up for lost time. Slow kisses, soft kisses, wet, sucking kisses. A growl rumbled through his chest. “I’ve missed this,” he whispered into Stiles’ mouth.

Hearing Lydia hoot, Stiles groaned and pulled reluctantly away. “If you knew how much I’ve thought about you….” he rolled his eyes. “I’d be so embarrassed.”

“No clue why, but you doing embarrassing things is weirdly hot.” Theo licked his lips, still tasting Stiles on them. “Sometimes, like when you decide we can’t see each other anymore, you’re a complete pain in the ass, but other than that, I think you’re perfect.”

“Shut up.” Stiles voice was raspy and hoarse, quiet enough for Theo to barely hear him. “Seriously, just shut your mouth.” He shook his head slightly, a mischievous grin spreading across his lips. “You had me at ‘teddy bear’.”

“Yeah?” Theo closed his eyes, and felt the stress and worry from the last couple of weeks leak away.

“Well, _technically_ , you had me before that, but we probably shouldn’t discuss that right now.”

Theo’s eyes widened almost comically, “Especially not since your dad is sitting just a few rows behind us and carries a gun. So please, let’s talk about something that won’t end with me getting shot, okay?”

“Okay.” Stiles leaned forward and pressed his lips to Theo’s again. He was done talking. He just wanted to kiss his... _boyfriend_. He liked the sound of that. He teased the seam of Theo’s lips with the tip of his tongue.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Coach Finstock yelled. “Nobody wants to see that.” The players on both teams, as well as their supporters, turned to stare at him. “No, that’s not…” He laughed nervously, and gripped the back of his neck. “I mean, save it for the field. I mean, are we gonna finish this game or what?”

Theo eased off the bench, his hands tightly wrapped around Stiles’. “Just to show you how serious I am I’m gonna lose the game for you, and when I do, I want us to make it official. And I’m talking Facebook here.”

“Wow,” Liam said dumbfoundedly. “That _is_ serious.”

“Sure,” Stiles agreed. “But only if we win.”

Team captains Theo and Scott trotted out to the field and met in the face-off. Crouching, with the ball placed on the ground between the heads of their sticks, they waited impatiently for the go-ahead. When the whistle blew, Theo pretended to fumble, letting Scott take the ball.

The coach of Devenford Prep looked as if he was about to have a coronary. “Reaken, what the hell are you _doing_?”

The minutes ticked down slowly and Theo kept busy. He used his stick to trip Donovan, keeping him from tackling Liam, giving the other boy a chance to score. He ‘accidentally’ shot the ball to Scott, instead of his own teammate.

After his assist on the third goal, the crowd grew wild and began chanting his name. He thanked them, bending at the waist in a lavish bow.

Instead of catching Brett’s pass, Theo dropped to his knees and started retying his cleats. Stiles was there to pick it up, and sent it straight into the net, making the score a tie.

Jumping back to his feet, Theo’s eyes immediately sought out Stiles. Spreading his arms wide, he winked and with a one-shoulder shrug he seemed to say, ‘What are you gonna do?’

Furious, Brett shovedTheo, making him stumble back a few steps. “Get off your fucking knees,” he hissed. “You’re blowing the game.”

“Nah, the only thing I’ll be blowing is Stilinski.” Theo grinned. “Thanks to you, right?”

“You’re on thin ice, Reaken,” Devenford Prep’s coach hollered. “Get your head in the game or I’m benching you for the rest of the season.”

With just thirty seconds left on the clock, Beacon Hills scored again, winning the game.

The indignant roar coming from Devenford prep was deafening, but Theo ignored them. He hurried over to Stiles, and despite the small height difference, he wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s waist and spun him around, laughing happily. Their lips met, and all sounds around them disappeared. Deepening the kiss, he slid into the warmth of Stiles mouth, caressing his tongue with his own. When air became an issue, and they were forced to part, Theo didn’t waste any time. “Let’s go get your phone so we can make this official.”

Stiles laughed. “You’re such an assheart.”

“Yeah,” Theo agreed unrepentantly, “but as long as I’m your assheart, I’m okay with that.”

A while later, Lydia slid into the passenger seat of Jordan’s car when he came to pick her up. “I’m sorry I had to work,” he said after their usual greeting. “Did I miss anything?”

Her phone pinged with an alert, and Lydia pulled up her Facebook app and was met by an announcement; “Stiles Stilinski is now _in a relationship_ with Theo Reaken.” Squealing inwardly, she turned to Jordan. “No. It was nothing more than a game. Boring really.” She giggled and laid her hand on his knee, and squeezed. “Let’s go home.”

The End


End file.
